


Let me help

by Pikkulef



Series: Daredevil Post S3 Collection [5]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Nelson Murdock and Page
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 03:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20482256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pikkulef/pseuds/Pikkulef
Summary: Foggy and Karen decide that they want to help Matt in his nighttime activities and take first aid lessons...





	1. Chapter 1

It was late afternoon, and Foggy was enjoying the newly repaired air conditioning system, allowing himself a well deserved pause in the study of a particularly tedious case. 

He might even say, boring as fuck. 

He opened his eyes at the noise that Karen made when she got up from her desk, in the new hall room.   
She had an office now, but she was still taking care of the secretary work from time to time, and she did so at the desk in the hall. However, they would soon be able to hire someone to do this full time. Matt had implied he'd got news from an old friend of them who was looking for a job. Foggy was all for it, Becky was a good friend; you could count on her to be extra kind to clients, and meticulous in her administrative work. If Foggy was going to be honest, he’d have to admit to himself that Becky would be a way better secretary/associate than Karen, whose mind was on her cases 24/7. A great thing, but sometimes it was also good to take care of the dull administrative shit… 

… that reminded him of someone… 

And, thinking about it, now that they changed their premises, it would be far easier to make the office accessible. 

Karen, whom Foggy noticed was oddly not wearing a dress today, in this heat, but a plain blouse and jeans, stopped at the door.   
"I got a meeting. See you guys tomorrow?"   
Foggy waved at her, while Matt, in the office across the hall from him, paused his screen reader to ask:  
"Do we meet earlier before court tomorrow? For breakfast?" 

Karen immediately started to blush, not knowing what to answer, and Matt precipitally added: "The three of us, you know. Nelson, Murdock and Page?" 

Foggy shook his head, a smile on his face. These two. He wished they sorted all their stuff already, it was painful to witness.  
"I'm game, buddy!”  
"Yeah, that sounds great, let's do this!" Karen was back on her feet. She opened the door. "I'm gonna be late. Tomorrow, seven, here, I'll bring coffee, you boys settle the rest. See ya!"   
She closed the door quickly behind her - the firm's policy for this week was up on said door, a piece of paper written by Foggy himself, that said: DO NOT LET THE HEAT IN!!!!! in big red capital letters.

Foggy's smile got broader as he noticed Matt, still sitting in his chair, tilting his head to the side, as he did when he listened to something only he could get, a small, private smile on his lips.   
Foggy was going to tease him - you know I can see you, right? - but his eyes fell on the clock on the wall and he jumped.   
"Oh my God!!! I have a… A meeting, too! I totally forgot. Gotta go, pal. You take care of food tomorrow?"  
"And what will you bring?"  
"My legendary unbendable cheerfulness." Foggy picked his shoulder bag, checking if all he needed was inside. "God knows you two need it, in between making heart eyes at each other and suffering for not taking the step."   
"Metaphorical heart eyes, please.   
"So you don't deny it!"   
"You're gonna be late, Foggy. I'll bring the donuts tomorrow. Now fuck off."  
Foggy left, cackling, and Matt turned back to his work, wondering what all these meetings were.


	2. Chapter 2

Foggy ran. It was only a few blocks away. 

He'd had the idea last week, when he walked past the free clinic. A poster on the inside of the dirty window, already sunbleached, offered extensive after hours first aid lessons for a low fee, during the summer. Why not? He didn't like to think about it, but he had to face the facts: if Matt stopped doing what he did as Daredevil (could he make it a word?  _ To daredevil? Daredeviling?)  _ they would lose him. Now they knew - and now they all understood what it meant, and what it took. Karen and Foggy supported him, and it seemed to make it a lot… healthier. Saner. 

But if Matt kept on, they could lose him, too. Foggy would never be able to erase the sight of Matt, bloody and broken, half dead on the carpet of his own apartment, and this image had haunted him constantly the year before, when he had tried to convince himself that Matt was dead - his subconscious brain was convinced all right, and making a little scene of it every single time he closed his eyes. 

How do you fight fears? By being ahead of them. By being prepared. And this was the perfect occasion to start. 

Foggy got to the clinic when most people had already entered. He paused to catch his breath under the welcomed fresh air inside. He felt a little embarrassed, feeling how much of the surface of his shirt was covered in sweat, but it was too late to think about this now. Besides, he wouldn’t be mocked by many, as there were only a few candidates inside, but among them was… 

"Karen?!" 

Karen, waiting in line to register, turned around, surprised to hear her name, and a known voice.

"Foggy? What are you doing here?" 

"What are  _ you  _ doing here?" 

"Same thing as you, apparently."

Karen stepped out of the line and let the two persons between them advance, to stand next to Foggy. 

"And I bet it's for the same reason."

"What else would I need it for? Do you see  _ me  _ needing some first aid?" 

" _ Realistically speaking _ ," Karen pointed with a nervous smile, "Every firm needs a first aid worker."

"Yeah, I'm a lawyer, remember? And you know who is the one who took the first aid course at the uni? The one who actually had to fight to be allowed to take it?” Foggy stopped in his tracks, shaking his head. “Damn, I should have known… Anyway. You know who is our workplace first aider?" 

"Oh no, don't say it." Karen rolled her eyes, while Foggy shrugged. 

They fell silent, standing awkwardly next to each other in the queue, while people registered. Two persons, then one left, then it was their turn. Foggy gallantly let Karen sign first, then added his own name under hers. 

It seemed neither of them wanted to step back. Well, the more the merrier, and the more trained, the less scary it was to think about the possibility of this training being needed. 


	3. Chapter 3

Lessons went by. 

The first one was mostly people introducing themselves, and the basics of “assessing scene safety, avoid worsening the situation, call 911”. Foggy had given a meaningful look to Karen when this topic came up. She had shrugged in return. Well, this would be quickly forgotten, as much as any of them would have liked to discharge a too broken Matt on the paramedics, if that was ever to happen. Karen told Foggy later that they could call that nun - the one who had hid them during the church shenanigans. 

Foggy only had a vague memory of her. That had seemed to unsettle Karen a bit, but she had changed the subject quickly. 

The second, third, and fourth lessons got them on their knees, administering CPR to plastic mannequins, or taking turns in placing each other into recovery position. But, most importantly for them, they learned how to dress wounds to stop the bleeding in the time it would take for the paramedics to arrive (or… whoever…), and when to, or often _not to_, apply a tourniquet. 

Foggy expressed some concerns there. 

“I’m really not… I don’t handle blood well,” he let out once, as he and Karen were parting ways after the second or third session. 

“I know, I’ve managed to… take care of it… when it -    
“Yeah, you called that nurse, did you?”    
Foggy had told her about that time he’d found Matt. And about Claire. He swallowed his spit with difficulty, his throat closing at the memory. He wasn’t proud of what he was going to say.    
“Yeah, that’s the point. I had someone to call. What I didn’t tell you is that I was on the verge of… uh… losing it. But, what if… what if it happens, and it’s just me, you know?”   
Foggy was dancing from one foot to the other, looking to the side, obviously embarrassed to confess this to Karen. 

Foggy knew she’d been through a lot more than he had - both her and Matt - and he felt like a child, a privileged, too soft child, next to them in this regard. He looked up when Karen placed a hand on his arm. 

“Hey. This is just a precaution . It doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen again - Matt is trying to be more careful, remember? And whatever happens, it’s not just you, it’s  _ us _ . We’ll manage.” 

Foggy noticed her looking away for a slight second, as if she was doubting herself. But then she planted her eyes right back into his. 

“We’ll manage. Whatever happens, we are more armed to deal with it now than we were before we started, right?”    
Foggy had nodded, not sure if this was reassuring enough. 

The class was held once a week, in the same old clinic building, with a long gone AC, and among the acrid smell of hospital detergents. 

Which Matt had not failed to pick up on immediately, but had been smart enough to ask them only after the third week. It was the way he asked that surprised them - he could tell it by their sudden sweating, the both of them, and the spike in their heartbeat. A low drum speeding for Foggy, like birds wings suddenly beating furiously for Karen. 

“Is one of you sick and not telling me about it?”    
  


Matt was leaning on the wall in the entrance to his small office, a concerned, even slightly anguished look on his face. But in his voice, there was also frustration. And maybe anger. 

Neither Foggy nor Karen had connected the dots immediately, and they looked at each other at a loss.    
“Uh, no, we’re fine, buddy… why?” Foggy frowned.    
“It’s been three weeks. Every Thursday, you come to work and have this… lingering… after thought…” Matt vaguely pointed in their direction, first Foggy, then Karen, moving his hand from one to the other. “... of a hospital smell on you. Both of you.” He paused, crossed his arms, his shoulder still leaning against the doorframe, then shrugged, as if he was trying to hide his concern. “You have these...  _ meetings _ . I’m just… I just want to know that you’re both okay. You sound okay, you seem okay, but there’s this smell… I know it. I am not mistaking it for another."

Foggy was baffled. They had forgotten. 

Karen had pointed the smell just the day before, as they got out. How it lingered. But she didn't think Matt would be able to smell it, still, even after a shower, a night and a change of clothes.    
“Hell, buddy, we’re good. Honestly.”    
“Yeah, don’t worry that much.” Karen took on her softest, soothing voice. “We are fine.”    
Matt frowned.   
“But you’re not going to tell me what you’re doing. Is that so?”    
  


Foggy opened his mouth to say they had a potential client, that Matt was already busy, and they didn’t want to add this to his work load… then closed his mouth. Matt would know. 

As if on cue, Matt tilted his head, his eyes - he wasn’t wearing his glasses when it was just the three of them at work anymore - half closed. 

There was no lying to him. 

Foggy glanced at Karen, who seemed ready to tell Matt. But Foggy didn’t want to. He had that idea that Matt wouldn’t like it. That he would feel like they were meddling in his so called “second life” too much - or putting themselves in danger, as he would probably put it. 

Besides, there was a little revenge in hiding this from him, after all he himself had hidden from them. 

Foggy stuck his chin up. 

“No. We’re not going to tell you… not yet, at least.”    
Foggy saw Karen get somber from the corner of his eye, but she didn’t say anything, even when Matt turned towards her.    
“Karen?”    
Foggy was surprised by Matt’s voice. There was something almost whiny in it. Supplicating. 

But Karen didn’t fall for it.    
“We’ll tell you when we’re ready. Just know that we are fine, no one is sick, and we just happen to have found the same... hobby, at the same time, okay?”    
That was true, even if Foggy wouldn’t exactly call this a hobby. And, indeed, Matt got it. Karen had not lied - but he couldn’t extract the truth from this. 

Matt relaxed slightly, breathing in, letting his shoulders slump. He was sad that they would hide something to him, but smart and proud enough not to pry more right then. They were giving him a taste of his own medicine - that was blatant. And irritating.    
But could he say anything? Not really.   
He detached himself from the wall, licked his lips, then turned around to sit back at his desk. He held a hand up, and said, before settling down : 

“Okay, I get it. Keep your secrets, get your petty revenge. I won’t bother you about it anymore.”

Neither Foggy nor Karen did hear much from him afterwards. 


	4. Chapter 4

Matt had not exactly sulked, after this - he was still pretty much himself, still laughed at their jokes and still shared some time with them - but it was as if he had toned down himself. As if he was withdrawing a little from his normal place in the trio. 

He was more focused on his work, less likely to talk if he wasn't invited to by the others. 

Foggy knew this behavior, he had witnessed it before, and more than once. It  _ was  _ Matt's way of brooding, of letting them know he wasn't happy with how they were treating him. It would pass, once he'd have digested the idea. Maybe, then, Foggy would tell him. 

But it was visibly driving Karen crazy, and more than just "visibly" - Foggy was pretty sure that, as much as she contained herself, Matt knew exactly what effect his behavior had on her. And maybe, just maybe, he enjoyed it. Foggy had learnt to know how much of a bastard Matt could be. 

One day, Matt came in late, a small band-aid on his forehead. His pace was so stiff, so far from his usual, there was no way he wasn’t hiding a bigger wound somewhere under his clothes. He greeted them both, then collapsed rather than sat on his chair. Foggy’s first reaction was to stand and go ask him if he was okay, but he thought better of it. 

If Matt had come to work, it couldn’t be that bad. Besides, he had been conscious enough to place a band-aid on that cut on his forehead, so he probably had dressed that other one, one way or another. Better to leave him alone, especially in his current state of mind. 

Karen, however, couldn’t help it. Seeing Matt all pale, obviously suffering, made her both want to help him… and somehow irrationally angry. At whoever did this. And at Matt. 

She stood in Matt’s doorway, heart pounding in her chest - she knew he could only hear it.    
“Matt? Are you okay?”   
Matt, settling his desk for work, turned towards her with a small smile.    
“Yeah. I’m fine.”    
“That cut on your forehead…”    
“You know what I do,” Matt shrugged (and winced) and got back to his laptop. “It happens.”   
“It’s not the only one you got, is it?”    
Matt turned again in her direction, taking off his glasses and putting them in his shirt pocket. It was deliberate. She would have liked her heart not to race then, but she couldn’t help it. He licked his lips. 

“No.”    
“Is it… did you take good care of it? Do you need any help with it?”    
Matt stuck his chin up, and had a slight shake of his head.    
“...No.”    
And that was it. He got back to his work. 

Karen bit her lips. 

Foggy saw Karen turn towards him, her expression indecipherable. Foggy gestured for her to let it go. Matt didn’t need them for such small things. They were getting ready for disasters, not day to day patching up. Karen got back to her desk without another word, but Foggy noticed some red on her cheeks. 

Matt was still giving them the cold shoulder. But neither Foggy nor Karen would surrender yet. It was in fact encouraging them - when Matt would know it was in fact  _ for him _ , he would be even more shamefaced by his conduct. Matt was right in one thing, though: it  _ was  _ petty. 

They kept on going to their lessons, and kept on learning. And kept their secret. 

Until, one day, Foggy washed the dishes. 


	5. Chapter 5

It was mid afternoon. The whole office was silent except for the faint sound of typing from Matt's office, and a pencil rhythmically tapping against the desk from Karen’s. Foggy smiled at the thought that, if  _ he  _ had been the one doing this, Matt would have stormed in his office and stopped him right away. Matt might be sulking, but he was still himself. 

Foggy stretched and got up. He was fed up with trying to come up with a good defense speech for his client, and decided to take a break. He walked to the tiny kitchen they had decided to keep in a corner of the office, to pour himself a glass of whatever he could find in the fridge. 

No clean glass. 

All the glasses they had, of the incredible number of five, where sitting in the sink, waiting to be cleaned. Foggy pondered drinking from a coffee mug, then thought that after all, cleaning the dishes would offer him a welcome break in his train of thoughts, and would make his procrastination feel a little less unproductive. 

He turned on the faucet and got to work, humming. 

He was in fact rehashing his speech in his head, not really thinking about what he was doing, when a crystalline sound, followed by a tearing pain in his hand, pulled him back to reality, and got a yelp out of him. 

He looked in disbelief at the bright red blood already meddling through the soapy water. Nausea took him immediately, so strongly that he had to grasp the edge of the sink, the movement tearing yet again in his hand. He didn't even notice when Matt, closely followed by Karen, got into the tiny room. 

"Foggy? You okay?" 

Foggy grasped the edge of the sink tighter. "Yeah, I'm fi-" 

"No, you're not." 

Matt didn't need to get any closer. Of course. He'd smell the blood. Heard Foggy's heart racing… 

"Foggy. Foggy, calm down. Breathe. Come here and sit down. We'll look at that cut." 

Matt had appeared next to him. He was taking things in hand, slowly, gently taking Foggy's hands off the sink, while firmly holding his arm - goddammit, he knew Foggy's head was spinning enough to dizzy him. You couldn't hide anything from Matt. 

But Karen was there too. She delicately took his hurt hand by the wrist, and had him hold it roughly at shoulder height.

"Foggy, you've got to hold your hand up, remember? Slow the blood flow. Matt, help him walk to the chair there, but keep his hand up."

Foggy saw Matt frown through a fog, but he welcomed Karen's advice. Giving him more control over the situation than just letting himself be manhandled was helping. Helping in what, he wasn't sure. But it felt better to be reminded that, yes, he knew what to do. 

Matt gently pushed and guided Foggy towards the chair that Karen had brought near, and held the injured hand up. Suddenly, Foggy felt heavier, and became limp. His heart was racing, and Matt could feel he was dizzy again. Matt slid an arm under Foggy’s and held him upright, trying to hide his worry. 

"Stay up, soldier," he groaned. "The chair is just there."    
Karen stepped next to him.    
“You’re keeping his hand in his field of vision,” she said, taking said hand in hers, leaving Matt to help Foggy to the chair. “He doesn’t… like that very much.”

Foggy couldn’t really speak, but he felt very grateful for Karen. And Matt. He slumped on the chair, and as he was letting his hand fall down, Karen caught his wrist again and held it up. 

He was ready to let himself go, but Karen put a glass of water in his other hand and demanded: 

"Okay. Foggy. Walk us through the next steps."

Foggy blanked. What steps? He looked at Karen.    
“The next steps. Remember? We’ll take you to the ER, but we need to stabilize it first.”   
“Oh. Uh. Yeah.” 

Foggy didn’t like the sound of ER, but if it was needed… none of them knew how to stitch wounds. 

No. The truth was that none of them had been  _ medically trained  _ to stitch wounds. 

“Uhhh… okay.” Foggy concentrated. It was all rather blurry in his head, and the nausea and pain weren’t helping. “We need to… See how the cut is?”   
“Not good looking, and this is an understatement,” Karen winced, still holding Foggy’s arm. “It’s… it’s too wide to be able to heal by itself. You definitely need stitches”   
Foggy gulped, his nausea coming back. 

Matt turned around them both, pacing briskly, like a caged lion. He wanted to help, but they were handling it. And Karen’s strategy seemed to have a soothing effect on Foggy. His heart was still racing, but it’d been calming down. When he noticed it peak again, Matt gently turned Foggy’s head away from his hand with a soft push.    
“Don’t look.”    
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you!”    
Matt smiled. Foggy was feeling better. Karen hurried them. 

“Next step, Foggy.”    
“Okay. Okay. Uh. Apply pressure?”    
“Yes that’s the thing. Matt, do we have anything -” 

Matt was all too happy to be of use. He had almost run the few steps to the small kitchen, and came back with a couple of dish towels.    
“That’s all we have, but I think it’ll do.”    
“I’ll keep his hand steady.” Karen stepped to Foggy’s side, letting Matt get closer. “Do it, I’m sure you’ll be far better than me at this.”

Matt got ready, making a tight ball of one of the dish towels, but before he did anything else, he turned to Foggy.    
“If I hurt you, tell me, okay?”   
“You’ll know even before I do.” Foggy shrugged. He drank from the glass of water. His heart was steadier, slower.    
“Just being polite here.” Matt placed the crumpled towel on Foggy’s hand, and wrapped it with the second one, trying to keep it as tight as possible. 

  
“Can you move your fingers?”    
“Uh.” Foggy tried. “Barely.”    
“Perfect.” Matt placed his hand on Foggy’s shoulder. Foggy looked at the makeshift bandage, blood already seeping through. He gulped again.   
“Now, what?” Foggy wasn’t really asking. He knew, and wasn’t happy about it.    
“Now, ER, Foggy. I’ll take you.” Karen got up to take her purse, gesturing for him to keep his hand up. Foggy saw some other movement in the corner of his eye. Matt had put his glasses back on and was picking up his cane. He pointed.    
“ _ We _ ’ll take you.” 


	6. Chapter 6

“That thing you didn’t want me to know about... You were taking First Aid lessons, right? The two of you? Together?” Matt asked, after a few minutes of fidgeting with his cane, passing it from one hand to the other. He turned towards Karen, frowning, but smiling his crooked smile.    
She shifted on her seat, and sighed.

They were sitting in the waiting room. Karen had offered to move further, since they were surrounded by people going back and forth, loud children, and suspicious stains on the ground. But Matt had waved her concerns away. Foggy would feel better if he saw them waiting for him right away when he got out. He'd been taken in roughly an hour prior. 

"So?" 

"Yeah, it was." Karen sighed again, and Matt felt her look away from him. 

"Why the hell didn't you tell me? Why?” He was careful to keep his tone low - and to rein in his disappointment. There was no need to get all frustrated about this again. Besides… 

“That would have helped me to avoid making a fool of myself for a few weeks. And also stopped me from worrying.” He tilted his head in Karen’s direction, smiling again, a sheepish one now. “‘Cause I  _ was  _ worried." 

"Yeah," Karen crossed her arms tightly against her chest. "I know." 

"Hey." Matt put his arm around her shoulders. "I'm not mad at you."    
  


Realising what he had just done, he squeezed her gently, then quickly took back his arm. But that didn’t seem to bother Karen. At least not bother her in the wrong way. 

  
“We… I… I don’t know. I would have liked to tell you, but we never thought about how you could have noticed or be bothered, and then you called us out on smelling - ”    
“Like a hospital.” Matt cut her off and went on, head low. “I was… I was terrified one of you was sick. And above all, that…” He licked his lips. “That, given my  _ senses _ , given the fact that  _ I can’t help _ noticing things about you, I’d have been oblivious to the fact that something was wrong. You know?”    
Karen was taken aback. Matt heard her open her mouth, then close it more than once. Finally, she blurted. “This is why you were so angry?!”    
“Why else? I had failed you.”    
Matt licked his lips and passed his hand on his chin.    
“Anyway. It’s alright. You’re both fine - well, Foggy will be. And I guess I know why you took those lessons, right?” He nudged her shoulder.    
  


Karen felt her cheeks warm up.    
“We wanted to be able to help. To do something.”    
“You already do so much. You have no idea.” Matt’s voice had turned soft.    
“Oh really? Only if you let us, you know! You didn’t seem that disposed for it last time.” Karen teased him, laughing. 

But she had placed her hand on his arm, and she left it there. 

Matt shrugged.    
“I was… frustrated, let’s say. But it wasn’t that bad. I swear.”    
“I’m glad we finally told you - I’m not happy that Foggy got hurt, but, you know…” Karen’s hand pressed on Matt’s arm. “We were all about  _ no more lies _ , and here we are, lying to you. This is the most stupid…” 

  
“Young man, you will step away from this woman immediately!”    
Matt smiled at this, and Karen turned to see Foggy, waving at them with a neatly bandaged hand.    
“Foggy!” Matt called. “I didn’t even notice you were coming. Didn’t expect you until a few hours at best.”   
“Of course you didn’t notice…” Foggy walked up to them. “So, you know everything, now, I bet?    
“Yeah.” Matt shrugged.    
“Yes, he does. Isn’t it better this way, though?”   
“It is. I’d just have liked the stitches not to have been on me for our first, you know. That wasn’t the intended use.” Foggy laughed, waving his injured hand again. 

“But for real, Matt? Next time, we’ll be ready.”    



End file.
